


home cooking

by harinezumi_kun



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, cross-dressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-14
Updated: 2012-03-14
Packaged: 2017-11-08 05:40:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/439764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harinezumi_kun/pseuds/harinezumi_kun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ohno comes home to find shoko-chan in the kitchen. uh-oh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	home cooking

**Author's Note:**

> so this...well, that other yama fic i was working on didn't pan out, and then i realized that all along all i wanted was sho in a dress. SO HERE IT IS :D P.S: ~~YAMA FREE-SQUARE :D~~ edit: JK, I TOTALLY HAVE A GENDERBEND-SQUARE THAT I FORGOT ABOUT :DD

When Ohno gets back to his apartment, he finds a very cute (if rather large) pair of red heels in his _genkan_. For a moment he’s confused, and then he hears a clatter, and registers the faint smell of burning coming from the kitchen.

“I’m home?” he calls hopefully.

“W-welcome back!” comes Sho’s voice from the kitchen, high and mildly panicked. “Um. Don’t come in here.”

Ohno toes off his shoes and sets his bag down next to the purse Sho brought (it matches his shoes, Ohno notes with a grin) which is still sitting near the door. Ignoring Sho’s request, he wanders towards the kitchen. Sho is bent anxiously over the stove with his back to the door, so Ohno pauses to just look at him for a minute.

Sho wore his longer wig today, and the dark waves are pulled back in a ponytail that falls almost halfway down his back. The stripy grey sweater he picked out is nice and wide at the neck, exposing a good deal of shoulder, and his skirt is a pretty, complimentary minty-green. It’s made out of some kind of light, airy fabric that swirls gently just above his knees. Sadly, his legs are covered in tights, but Ohno likes the lacy flower pattern in the black nylon, and the picture Sho makes in his stocking feet standing in Ohno’s kitchen.

“Shoko-chan,” Ohno says, making Sho jump when he sidles up behind him to peek over his shoulder. “You cooked.”

“Well,” Sho grumbles. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind his ear. “I tried.”

“I’m sure it’ll be—” Ohno begins, and then gets a good look at the charred frying pan. “Um. It’s the thought that counts?”

Sho just pouts, and Ohno stretches up on tip-toe to plant a kiss on his cheek. “You look really cute today.”

“Thanks,” Sho mutters, blushing a little and smoothing a hand down the front of his sweater. He didn’t put in any padding today, but Ohno kind of likes it that way.

Ohno reaches forward and turns off the burner, and Sho doesn’t protest when Ohno leads him away by the hand. They sit down on the couch, and Sho slouches down enough that he can put his head comfortably on Ohno’s shoulder, keeps his knees neatly together. It’s little things like that—and like the perfume Sho has on—that still surprise Ohno. 

He remembers the first time Sho—or, Shoko, rather—turned up at the door in a little black dress and a curly auburn wig, looking like he was just waiting for Ohno to laugh in his face, or call him disgusting, or slam the door. But they’d been bandmates for years, and after all the cosplay they’ve done for national television, Ohno had had an inkling. He hadn’t laughed—he’d just invited Sho in, and maybe that’s why Shoko keeps showing up at Ohno’s apartment.

“I just wanted tonight to be special,” Sho says softly, breaking Ohno from his reverie.

“Hmm?” Ohno murmurs. “Why’s that?”

“Because,” Sho says, still pouting. “It’s White Day.”

“Oh, right.” Ohno had completely forgotten. “Wait, am I in trouble?” 

“No,” Sho huffs. “I just…”

Ohno tries to smile reassuringly at Sho when the other man sits up, but then furrows his brow at the look on Sho’s face. “Hm?”

“I ruined your present,” Sho says stubbornly. 

“No, no, it’s fine!” Ohno protests. “I mean, we can still—maybe if we put some soy sauce on it—”

“Or,” Sho says leaning forward, bringing their faces close. Ohno feels a swoop in his gut, but then Sho stops again, just a breath away.

“I can give you something else?” Sho whispers. There’s a little smirk playing around the corners of his mouth.

Ohno lets out a shaky exhale, a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He thinks about it for a moment. But that’s all it takes.

“Yeah,” he agrees, as the last distance closes. “That’s fine.”


End file.
